


Sickdays 5.0 Day 1: Bodily Fluids

by occasionalspiderfiction (SemiRetiredAuthor), sickficlurker (SemiRetiredAuthor)



Series: Sickdays 5.0 [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Collaboration, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt No Comfort, Scat, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting, emeto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 05:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiRetiredAuthor/pseuds/occasionalspiderfiction, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiRetiredAuthor/pseuds/sickficlurker
Summary: SERIOUSLY, READ THE TAGS.Peter gets sick on a patrol unfortunately far from home and suffers.





	Sickdays 5.0 Day 1: Bodily Fluids

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm sorry. I know that summary describes like half of my fics, but I'm seriously drawing a blank on how to describe this.)
> 
> LAST WARNING: This is a scat fic. If you don't know what that is, you probably don't want to read it. It's 100% on you if you keep going now. :)

Patrol was going fine until a sudden cramp hit and an uncomfortable heat pooled around his stomach. Immediately, Peter knew he had mere minutes to head off his latest potential PR nightmare.

Naturally, he was nowhere near home or any other place he recognized well enough to be able to lay out a foolproof escape route.

He didn’t hesitate in shooting a web for a lower building en route to the nearest deserted alley, but another sharp cramp mid-air sent him clutching for his side and made him swerve to the left more than he’d expected. Barely avoiding violently slamming into the wall of the building, he dropped to the ground in a rush, more concerned with his inner turmoil than anything around him.

His hand was hovering just above the release mechanism for his suit when he spotted two people loitering at the mouth of the alley with no obvious plans to move. He groaned softly at the unexpected obstacle, clenching every muscle in his body and already worried that he’d overestimated how much time he had before it was too late.

Scaling the wall was more awkward than even the fumbling and terrified first time he’d ever tried it, his body in no mood to cooperate with even the basic level of agility required for Spider-Man-level feats. As soon as he thought he was making real progress up the wall, another cramp would strike and cost him another few seconds of stillness in response.

He made it to the top, though, but with no clues on where to go from there. The allure of straying beyond his usual hangouts had been too strong, and don’t get him wrong, it made for an interesting half-patrol, but now he was paying the price.

He was nowhere near his civilian clothes and in his experience, some businesses weren’t so Spider-Man friendly. The bulk of them fell into two categories: owners who thought he was a menace thanks to his earliest mistakes and cafes full of admirers who wouldn’t leave him alone for two seconds. Either one would be a nightmare right now, and he had no way of knowing before he tested one.

At least he was probably out of sight here. The roof access door was propped open for whatever reason and that was concerning, but no one was in sight and he couldn’t hear anyone on the next floor down. He hunched over with both arms wrapped around his viciously gurgling stomach and scanned the horizon for anything, _anything_ that could help him out of this.

But there was nothing. No place sprung out as particularly private, and no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot any business he recognized enough to risk slipping into a bathroom.

There was no time, his organs reminded him with a harsh squeeze that made him gasp. There was nothing left to do but make do.

He made a mad scramble for the only door, doing his best to gently guide it shut, although his stomach wasn’t helping the process along at all. One web, then two, then three covered the door. He’d never tried sealing off a door with the web fluid before; he crossed his fingers for the risky trial run.

There was no time for an inner debate on whether to risk getting caught as Peter or as Spider-Man, so he went with his gut instinct to completely remove the suit and the mask, slapping desperately at the release mechanism before he peeled everything off himself and threw it a safe distance away, as out of sight of the door as he could manage in preparation for the worst case scenario.

This was _not_ where he visualized himself at the start of patrol, stripped completely naked and squatting on a rooftop as unbearable cramps wracked through him more and more often. _How the mighty have fallen._

Just to remind him that things could always get even worse, his stomach chose that moment to flip again and sent him toppling forward, gagging and trying to keep his limbs out of both of the danger zones about to litter the roof.

Vomit surged its way up his throat and distracted him from holding on long enough to lose his battle against his stomach in both senses. The simultaneous splatters of liquid forcefully leaving his body covered up all other sounds momentarily and all he could do was give in with a long, low groan.

As the minutes dragged by endlessly, he realized he really didn’t know what to do. He was practically an adult now and should deal with something like _this_ alone, but _it wasn’t stopping_ and he had no idea how to handle it from here. It was a bit beyond anything he’d ever dealt with, to understate the situation. If this went on much longer, he didn’t know what would happen. The word “dehydration” at least swam at the back of his mind menacingly.

Tony had never explained the logistics behind accepting calls in the suit, but he knew the basics: ask Karen to start any outgoing calls, and verbally approve any incoming calls he wanted to accept (minus Tony’s, which much to his occasional horror were automatically patched through after a short warning). His phone didn’t need to be nearby for the suit to be able to take calls, and that was his downfall.

There was _one_ logistical problem. His phone was at home—under the assumption that it was redundant to have on hand and was better protected far away from his patrols—and the mask alone wouldn’t work, a precaution to stop anyone else from accessing Karen’s functionality in the event his mask was ripped off in a fight. As another cramp and the slowly growing mess on the rooftop told him, there was no way he could live down putting on the suit just yet. He shuddered at the idea of throwing an utterly destroyed suit into the rest of his laundry for May to find.

Actually, strike that. Thinking of May and how impossible it would be for her to find him on top of some random building miles from home, he didn’t even know who to call for help anymore.

He was so screwed. This was the worst day ever.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collab with a friend on Tumblr! I did part one alone, and if you've read this far, you're probably interested in his part two. I'll be adding the link here and on my tumblr @sickficlurker after he posts. :D If you read this far, and you're NOT interested, I'm concerned honestly. :P
> 
> I swear the rest of my Sickdays 5.0 fills are more tame, so good news to anyone who's not especially interested in scat fics. :D I'm skipping the second day, and I'm not sure whether the fifth day will be finished on time, but other than that I finished all the other prompts, so look forward to a good few fics this week!


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